Prime Suspect Page 7
“Here now, what’s all the ruckus?”
At the sound of Brent’s voice, her breath deflated. The ornate clock on the wall read 10:05 a.m. Caleb’s anger last night lay heavy on her, though she didn’t care to think about why it should. All she knew was that her tension mounted with every minute that passed. What if he didn’t come?
Brent appeared, Percy dancing back and forth at his feet and barking furiously. A chuckle lightened his words. “I feel like I’ve been attacked by a fearsome butterfly.”
When everyone laughed, Percy apparently decided this stranger was safe and stopped barking. He trotted over to sit at Darcie’s feet and look up at her, tail wagging, as though to say, “See, Mom? I’m protecting you.”
“Breakfast is almost ready,” Lauren announced, pulling a huge tray of breakfast burritos from the oven. “Darcie, the juice glasses are in that cabinet behind you.”
Glad for a task to keep her hands busy, Darcie swallowed her rising worry and opened the cabinet.
The front door opened again, and Percy rushed to do his duty. Was Caleb finally here? Darcie’s heart thudded in her chest. She forced herself to remove six glasses from the cabinet, even though some strange part of her wanted to run after Percy. Was Caleb still upset with her?
Anger sparked at the thought. What was the matter with her? What did she care? He had no reason to be angry. She didn’t call him stupid, after all.
Percy fell silent in the hallway. Tiny claws clicked on the tile, triple time to the sound of heavy footsteps.
“Hey, dude, you’re just in time.” Mason scooted a chair out and dropped into it. “We were getting ready to start without you.”
“Sorry. Ran into traffic.”
Darcie set the last glass in place before turning to look at him. When she did, she found Caleb’s eyes fixed on her.
“Good morning. Did you get any sleep?” His tone was guarded, his eyes politely distant.
“I slept well,” she replied in an equally polite voice. “Did you?”
“Yes, a little.” His weight shifted from one foot to another. “I want to apologize for last night.” His glance included Brent and Lauren. “I was tired, I guess, but I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’m sorry.”
The apology appeared to be genuine, but Darcie found herself disappointed at the impersonal tone in which it was delivered. She managed a nod, then turned away to retrieve the juice pitcher from the counter. That was it? A quick “I’m sorry,” and he expected everything to be forgiven? On the other hand, what did she expect? Groveling?
“We were all tired,” Brent said.
“I know I was.” Lauren, her hands still swathed in oven mitts, gave Darcie a quick, expectant look.
Oh, okay. Her attention focused on pouring a steady stream of juice into the first glass. “We had a long, stressful day yesterday. I’m sorry I lost my temper, too.”
Karina and Mason were watching all of them, their expressions curious. Mason opened his mouth to speak, and a muted sound thud came from beneath the table.
“Ow!” He looked at his wife reproachfully. “I was only going to say now that we have that out of the way, it’s time to eat.”
Lauren laughed and asked Karina good-naturedly, “Don’t you feed him at home?”
That lightened the atmosphere, and they all slid into chairs, obviously comfortable with their positions. Darcie took the empty one next to Caleb. Percy lay obediently on the floor between them.
Brent looked at Caleb. “Would you pray for us?”
Caleb made a show of unfolding his napkin and laying it across his lap. “I’d rather you lead us, brother.”
A long, silent pause fell on those seated at the table. Several jaws slackened, and everyone stared at the one they called Preacher Man. Darcie stole a sideways glance. Caleb’s lips were pressed into a tight line, his stare fixed on his plate as though examining it for spots. What was it Lauren said last night? He was the first one to pray. Which meant something was bothering him today, something that made him not want to offer the blessing. The thought disturbed her. She might not have the Lord’s attention, but it was comforting to know people like Caleb who did. The idea that he might have a few doubts, as she did, was distinctly unsettling.
Brent recovered himself. “Uh, sure. Let’s pray.”
He extended his hand and Darcie, startled, stared at it for a moment. Then she saw that everyone else had joined hands. Feeling shy, she slipped her left hand into his. On her right, Caleb hesitated. Heat crept up her neck from her collarbone. Did he not want to hold her hand?
He lifted his hands from his lap and grabbed hers and Lauren’s. His felt hot and clammy, and it engulfed hers.
“Lord, we’re grateful to be here with each other and with You. Thank You for drawing us together as friends. We’re especially grateful for our new friend, Darcie. We ask You to keep her safe. Direct our conversation this morning as we figure out how to help her.” Brent’s hand squeezed hers, and a flush warmed Darcie’s cheeks, but she kept her eyes tightly shut. “Bless this delicious food and the lovely hands that have prepared it for us. In Christ’s name, Amen.”
Caleb released her hand quickly. The prickle of tears came unexpectedly. Why? Was it because Brent’s heartfelt words reminded her of Mama’s prayers, always grateful even up to the end? Or because the warmth of being named as a friend was chilled by Caleb’s eagerness to escape her touch? She lifted her juice glass to hide her effort to get her emotions under control. Apparently a good night’s sleep had not restored her as much as she had thought.
“Oh, yum.” Across the table, Mason’s face took on a rapturous expression as he bit into a warm roll. “Awesome, Mrs. Emerson. Awesome.”
A dimple creased Lauren’s cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair.”
The rolls were delicious, as was the burrito stuffed with eggs, chorizo, onions and peppers. Small talk dwindled as everyone enjoyed the breakfast. Darcie ate silently, content to let the conversation ebb and flow around her. The obvious affection these people had for each other made her a little envious. Had she ever had someone who cared about her the way they cared about each other? Besides Mama, anyway. Not really. Oh, she’d had girlfriends in school, but they’d all drifted away when Mama got sick. No, if she was honest with herself, she’d withdrawn from them, let the relationships grow cold. She was too preoccupied taking care of Mama to return their calls.
She stole a glance at Caleb. He, too, sat silent, his attention on his plate. The space between them felt like an invisible wall. Where had the friendly, caring man of yesterday gone?
When Brent’s plate was empty, he pushed it away and picked up his glass. “I have to go back to work this afternoon, so I think it’s time we get down to business.”
Though half a burrito still lay on her plate, Darcie’s appetite disappeared. She set her fork on the rim of her plate. Discomfort congealed in her stomach along with the good food, leaving her slightly sick. The time had come. If she wanted these people to help her, she had to open the pages of her past for them to see.
With a glance at Karina, Mason lifted a third cinnamon roll out of the pan. “Let’s start with yesterday. Tell us exactly what happened.”
Darcie was still gathering her thoughts when Caleb spoke. “It started with a murder.”
She listened as he succinctly laid everything out, from their initial meeting beside the pool house to their discovery of Jason Lewis’s body, to the interrogation on the Fairmont’s patio. He summarized the conversation with Detective Samuels and Mrs. Fairmont’s appearance. As she listened, Darcie once again felt the hot misery of the woman’s disdainful gaze, the horror of the attacker’s hand clamping over her mouth, the terror of the race through crowded city streets. When he finished, she drooped against the seat back, exhausted.
The rest listened attentively, and only when C
aleb fell silent did Brent speak. “I don’t understand Samuels’s suspicions. There’s not a single piece of evidence regarding that murder pointing to Darcie.”
“I know, right?” Mason wiped his fingers with his napkin. “She’s a victim. Anybody can see that.”
“I think it’s because Mrs. Fairmont and that housekeeper, Mrs. Byler, dislike her.” Karina directed a sympathetic smile across the table.
Lauren rose and went after the juice pitcher. “What’s that all about anyway? Did you do something to offend her, Darcie?”
“I didn’t. But my mother might have.”
“Not your uncle?” asked Brent.
“Well, both of them.” She looked at Caleb, who nodded and slid his chair back.
“I’ll get the box. It’s in the truck.”
While he was gone, Lauren refilled glasses and Brent began stacking the empty plates. Caleb returned, with Percy trotting at his heels, and set the shoe box on the table in front of her.
Moisture dampened her palms as she lifted the lid. Everything in there reminded her of Mama. The faint smell of the lilac hand lotion she liked rose from inside. Darcie’s fingers trembled as she pushed aside the trinkets her mother had stored there. A small, misshapen clay dish Darcie had made for her in fourth grade. A miniature spiral notebook, each page decorated with colored hearts and flowers and a silly story scrawled in slanting, uneven letters. A medal Darcie had won at 4-H camp. The gaudy collar that had been delivered with Percy, which they’d never forced him to wear, along with his AKC papers. From beneath those things she withdrew a stack of papers held together by a rubber band and put the lid back on the box.
“I found these when I was getting ready to move to Atlanta.”
There were no envelopes, only a dozen or so single sheets of paper. She unfolded the first and examined the even script that sprawled across the page.
Per our agreement.
Richard Fairmont
Wordlessly, she handed it to Caleb, who read it and passed it to Lauren.
The first was the only note that bore a signature. The rest included only a single line, though in the same handwriting. She picked a sample few. One read:
As promised.
Another:
I trust you are both well.
And the one that had caused her heart to skip when she’d first read it:
She looks like you, thank goodness.
When that one circled the table to Karina, she studied it, her expression thoughtful. “A shame there are no dates on any of these.”
“I know.” A sentimental expression softened Lauren’s features. “There might be a tragic love story behind these notes. A love that could never be. Did your mother ever mention Richard Fairmont?”
“Not that way,” Darcie said. “In fact, I never even heard his name until I was eleven or twelve, when Uncle Kenneth went to work for him.”
“Ah, yes. Uncle Kenneth.” Mason folded his arms on the table and leaned over them. “Tell us about him.”
Shame fell over her like hot rain. She had a hard time meeting anyone’s eye and fixed her gaze instead on the empty glass in front of her. “Uncle Kenneth is Mama’s younger brother. When I was little he used to come around a lot. I didn’t like him. He was...mean.”
“Mean?” Caleb turned in his chair to look at her head-on, his expression fierce. “Did he hurt you?”
“Only once. Most of the time he hardly even looked at me. But he made fun of my mother, called her stupid and...” Heat burned in her face. “And a tramp. She loved him, but he upset her every time he came over.”
“The poor woman.” Softhearted Lauren sounded like she might cry.
Darcie managed a grateful smile. “She used to give him money and he would disappear for a while, but he always came back. When I was young I told Mama I didn’t like him, but she said he was her little brother and our only relation, so we had to make an effort to get along with him.
“One day I came home from school and his car was in the driveway. I tiptoed into the house, planning to slip into my room without him seeing me. He and Mama were in the kitchen, arguing. Well, he was arguing. Shouting. Mama was crying. I heard him say something about somebody owing Mama, and she was stupid for not cashing in on it. She told him she wouldn’t do it, that Richard Fairmont had helped enough.”
“Fairmont had helped enough,” Caleb repeated thoughtfully.
Darcie squeezed her eyes shut. Mama’s sobs still echoed in her ears, and her stomach clenched into the same painful knot it had ten years ago. She found that she had picked up her table knife and held it clenched in her right hand. With an effort, she laid it gently on the tablecloth.
“That was the first time I heard Mr. Fairmont’s name. Shortly after that, Mama told me that Uncle Kenneth had gotten a job in Atlanta and was moving. He was going to work for a man named Mr. Fairmont. Even at that age I knew what had happened.”
“Your uncle knew of your mother’s relationship with Fairmont and forced her to use her influence to get him a job,” Brent stated the fact plainly.
Darcie nodded. “All I cared about was that my uncle was moving away, and we wouldn’t see him much anymore. I didn’t hear Mr. Fairmont’s name again for four years, when Uncle Kenneth came back.”
Karina leaned forward. “You were how old then? Seventeen?”
“That’s right. We were washing up the supper dishes and he banged on the back door. When Mama let him in, he ran around the house closing all the blinds. Mama told me to go to my room so they could talk.”
Darcie closed her eyes again, the scene as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. She could still hear the harsh bitterness in Uncle Kenneth’s voice.
“Let her stay,” he said. “She might as well know the truth.”
Mama paled. “Kenneth, don’t.”
His bark of laughter filled the room. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your trashy little secret. I mean the truth about the high-and-mighty Richard Fairmont. He’s nothing but a petty crook.”
Mama’s back stiffened. “He is not.”
Surprised, Darcie looked at her. Mama never disagreed with her brother, especially in such an angry voice.
“You don’t know him like I do. That man’s as crooked as a corkscrew.” He paced to the front window and parted the curtains with a finger to peek out. “He’s after me. He caught me with my fingers in his pie and he told me if I don’t take the rap quietly, he’d hurt you.”
“I don’t believe that.” Mama’s chin jutted into the air.
Darcie could hardly believe her ears. She rounded on her uncle. “He said he’d hurt your sister, and you ran away? You’re hiding behind a woman? You’re nothing but a coward.”
Eyes blazing, he stomped across the floor toward her. “Shut up.” He pulled back a hand and before she could react, sharp pain exploded in her cheek.
The memory of the slap still produced a vivid stinging pain five years later. Darcie rubbed a finger lightly over her cheek, and then dropped her hand into her lap when she realized everyone was staring at her.
A humorless attempt at a laugh sounded pathetic in the silence around the table. “I’d never spoken up to him before then, which is probably a good thing.”
Mason cleared his throat. “He sounds like a real sweetheart. What happened to him?”
Darcie toyed with her spoon and attempted nonchalance. “Oh, he stayed for a couple of hours, ranting and raving the whole time about how Richard Fairmont was a crook, but he knew he’d come out on top in the end. And then the police came and arrested him.”
“At your house?” Caleb asked.
“That’s right.” She balanced the spoon between her thumb and forefinger. “They handcuffed him in our living room. All the neighbors came outside and watched as they put him in the police car.”
Darcie shrugged. “Mama took it harder than me. I was glad to see him go.”
Mason drained his orange juice and set the glass on the table. “So Mrs. Fairmont has a couple of grudges against you.”
Karina stiffened, her expression outraged. “That’s not fair. Darcie isn’t responsible for her uncle’s actions, or her mother’s either.”
Her defense touched a soft place in Darcie’s heart, and she smiled wordless thanks across the table.
“Even so,” said Brent, “I agree with Caleb that Samuels’s main reason to suspect Darcie is Mrs. Fairmont’s dislike of her, regardless of the reason. And the housekeeper is probably siding with her employer.”
Caleb had mostly remained silent while she talked. Now he stirred. “It’s clear to me what the next steps are. Do you agree?”
His question was directed at Mason and Brent. They both nodded, their expressions serious.
“What?” she asked. “What’s the next step?”
“We need to talk to your uncle.” He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “And you need to confront Fairmont.”
Dread descended over her like icy waters over a drowning victim.
NINE
Caleb saw Darcie go pale. She had told him last night she’d considered confronting Fairmont about his relationship with her mother and rejected the idea. He knew she wouldn’t want to do this, but he didn’t see any way around it.
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to see either of them.”
Though he understood her reluctance and felt sympathy for all she’d been through, she was being unreasonable. How could he keep her safe if she wouldn’t cooperate? He fought against the irritation that made him want to snap hasty words and spoke in a carefully calm voice.